


Up Against the Wall

by lifeinwords



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinwords/pseuds/lifeinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey there little red riding hood / you sure are looking good / you're everything that a big bad wolf could want. (Season Two Era)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up Against the Wall

Lucas inhales like real air can never be enough for him, lips pulling tightly into an O that relaxes as he breathes out. Doesn't turn his head to look at Clark, just smiles through the smoke. Figures Lucas'd practice every deadly habit he could find.

"Happy to see me?"

Clark breathes shallowly, stuttering a breath in long enough to grit out "Not really. Planning on taking anything over while you're here? Or is it a pleasure trip? Not that I think there's a difference for you."

"Just stopping by to settle some financial issues." Lucas grinds the cigarette out on his heel with a flourish and flicks the butt into the grass.

"It's fire season. I'd appreciate you not putting our lives in danger." Clark folds his arms and glares at the spot where it landed.

"Oh, didn't you miss me? You don't sound happy to see your…well. Lex is like your brother, right? So I am too. Hug, little brother?" Lucas hasn't stopped smirking since Clark came out of the barn to see who was parked in their driveway at sunset. The BMW taking up entirely too much space on their land is so shiny it looks still-wet, hard and new in the dusky light. Lucas matches, all smooth fabric-covered angles and crisp white shirt. Clark has a sudden impulse to knock him down, roll him around in the dirt until he's coughing from the dust.

"I'm not even going to answer that. So you came for money. What, is your allowance not big enough?" Clark tries on his own smirk and finds it fits rather well. His hands are still fisted, hidden under his arms like Lucas won't notice; Clark knows better but it's less for show than for…himself. He tamps down the voice in his head telling him to break things, break Lucas with his daring and his swagger that look so much like Lex's but mean something entirely different.

"Someone's not playing nice." Lucas frowns mockingly and shakes a finger at him. "Want me to turn around so you can mark your territory?"

"I just don't know why you'd think you were welcome here after what you pulled before. Do your friends in Edge City not care about attempted murder?" Clark's stalking closer, smelling smoke and engine oil coming off of Lucas in waves. He leans in, tries to loom but suspects he's failing because Lucas doesn't look cowed, of course. Just more of that smirk, eyebrows waggling and Clark doesn't know quite how it happens, but suddenly Lucas is ten feet back, pressed up against the barn and dangling from his collar clenched in Clark's fist.

"You know you're not wanted. Why not go bother Lex? Why are you here?" Clark's shaking now, fear and anger making his voice so low he can feel it vibrate in his stomach. Lucas is still pressed up against the barn, and Clark leans in to look more threatening, but Lucas only seems briefly shocked, his eyes wide and Adam's apple bobbing. Clark watches it move up and down, then shifts his eyes back up to Lucas when he laughs.

"I'll give you one thing, Clark. You're not subtle. It's cute, actually. Do you always go after everything you want so…aggressively? No wonder my brother likes you." And Clark doesn't want to think too deeply about what else that could mean, so he pushes a little and watches that throat clench, those manicured nails scrape at red-painted wood.

"I protect my friends and family. I don't expect you to know what that means, so I'll explain. You stay away from me, my mother, my father, my friends, and as soon as your business is done, stay away from Lex."

"Puppy's…got…teeth, huh?" Now Lucas is gasping out words, and Clark can swear he smells some fear on him underneath the cologne and paint.

"Make me really angry, Lucas, and I'll show you my teeth." Lucas stops wiggling then, and Clark can feel the power shift. He's still holding the man in place, still outweighing and threatening him, but somehow it doesn't matter. Lucas puts a hand over Clark's and whispers, mouth round over words that Clark can't not hear.

"A Luthor knows everything about anger and what it hides. Love, fear, passion…what's under your skin, Clark?" Clark's fingers feel numb. He leans his free hand against the barn.

"Right now, just a desire to rip you apart. That's all."

"Oh? Well, murder looks good on you, Clark." And that's where Lucas' other hand went. Hot and tight over his groin, cupping and stroking and outlining Clark's traitorous cock, which doesn't know the difference between death and sex.

"Maybe before you rip me apart, we can take this out and play first? Anything you want, Clark." Clark shudders into Lucas' face, which is pressing tight against his neck and licking promises into his skin, nuzzling under his ear as he keeps spitting out those hot little words.

"You can use your teeth, mark me all over. The harder the better." Clark's hands suddenly fall to his sides, but Lucas picks them up and puts them back; one rests over his throat and one over his head. Clark growls as Lucas pushes a thigh up between them, rocking Clark off-balance as their bodies slide closer. His hands are everywhere, burning a path up Clark's spine under his shirts and tugging open the buttons of his jeans; Lucas' eyes are half closed and trained on Clark's face.

Clark wonders how often you have to do this before you don't have to look. Fingernails scraping hard over his stomach make him grunt, and his head falls forward into Lucas, who hasn't stopped talking. Like Lex on the phone with his lawyers, Lionel closing a business deal.

"Split me open and get off at the same time. Much better than murder, I promise you. I should know. Nothing better than an angry fuck." Lucas angles his hip in and Clark moans, breathless and aching and that probably should have hurt, but it just made spots dance in front of his eyes. He can feel Lucas rubbing against him now, purring a little and making Clark's outstretched hand slide up and down with his movements.

Clark squeezes in surprise as Lucas' slides his fingers into the gap of his boxers and strokes softly. Lucas laughs again and shushes him, then he tugs and it pops right out, Clark's cock waving between them red as his cheeks. No hesitation: Lucas grabs it and tugs Clark closer, till the head brushes against Lucas' pants.

"We can do it up against the barn, the backseat of my car…make me do it, Clark. Go on." And Clark thinks he can. He drops the hand propped against the barn and shakes it for a second to get the blood moving, then hauls Lucas up onto his thigh with the pocket of his jacket. It rips satisfyingly, and Lucas clings to the back of his shirt as he almost topples.

Clark closes his fingers tighter as he moves Lucas into him, because he can run this, he can take this, and he doesn’t care if Lucas breathes. Lucas' face is as red as Clark's now, eyes glassy when he opens them on a gasp, but his hand jerks up and down despite being crushed between them.

"How long have you thought about it?" Lucas pants, his head back and scraping against the wall. Everything's moving in time with Clark's hand, hard and fast and so hot Clark can feel it through his eyes to the back of his skull. Not much longer, he just has to see Lucas lose it, stop talking about "holding yourself back, being afraid, can't just take…what you want…"

Clark's got the angle right, can feel Lucas throbbing into his hip, pants a little damp and clinging, his back arches and oh, he can't keep his eyes open, can't stop that sound in the back of his throat that sounds like he's dying, doesn't even care whether Lucas is enjoying it or not because he's almost there, almost there—

A cold hand cups the back of his neck and he comes, slumps forward into Lucas and hears the barn wall creak under him. Opens his eyes on full darkness, a second or ten minutes later, and Clark can't feel his knees. Only Lucas' grunting, swearing body is holding him up, and Clark shakes his head to stop feeling his nerves tingle and counts hands.

One lying limp on Lucas' thigh. One still tangled in his shirts. One on his neck, thinner and softer. Clark turns his head into the glare of another smirk, and hears Lucas mutter an "Oh, shit" under him.

"You should know better than to play with what's mine, little brother."


End file.
